


I Wanna Be Your Dog

by fickle_fics



Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Collars, F/M, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, grey white
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-18 03:55:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/875337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fickle_fics/pseuds/fickle_fics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's just an accessory. It doesn't mean anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Wanna Be Your Dog

**Author's Note:**

> Written for kink_bingo 2012 square collars.

“What the fuck’s _this_?” She hears Malcolm from the bathroom and pops her head out, toothbrush still in her mouth to find him crouching over her overnight bag, holding a leather collar dubiously in his hands.

“Ah,” she manages, ducking back into the bathroom to spit. “Now don’t go getting any ideas.”

He’s still holding it like it might burn him if he touches too much of it, though he isn’t entirely sure why - it probably has something to do with the surprise factor. “And in your filthy little mind is this for me or you?”

“I said don’t get any ideas,” she repeats.

“Oh too late, darling. Go on. _Why_ exactly have you brought a fucking _collar_ with you?”

“I didn’t bring it with me.”

“The fucking collar in my hands suggests otherwise.”

“It must’ve just been in my bag.”

“Go on,” he presses, standing and moving a little closer, the collar dangling from one finger. “Details, darling. I want _details_. Like…is it yours?”

“It’s from when I last went back to Manchester.”

“And there was me thinking you were missing me, not parading about wearing a fucking leather dog collar! I didn’t think you were into that kind of thing.”

“What kind of thing?”

“I don’t know…wearing collars. It’s a bit…it’s a bit submissive, isn’t it?”

Grey scoffs. “Not the way I wear it.” 

“No, I don’t suppose it would be. You‘re not like that, are you.” And he moves closer still one hand round her waist. “Not in public anyway.” He whispers.

She’d protest but she really doesn’t have a leg to stand on. He knows her far too well, he was the one that brought that side out of her and it’s not like she minds it so much. It seems like a shame not to take advantage of his alpha maleness every so often, after all.

“Will you put it on?” he asks, voice smooth and gentle in her ear. There’s a hint of something else in his tone though. Lust, desire and she’s never been much good at saying no to him because saying no‘s a lot like cutting off her nose to spite her face..

“You know I didn’t mean to bring this, don’t you?”

“Whatever you say, darling.”

“Malcolm!” 

“Aye, aye. I believe you. Thousands wouldn’t, but I do. You could’ve though. I wouldn’t have minded.”

“Not even if it wasn’t for me?”

“Especially not then, Grey.”

And that, _that_ is one of the reasons she’s so hopelessly in love with him. Because he is not the Malcolm Tucker the rest of the world knows, and because she gets to have him all vulnerable and under her control and he’s _so_ perfect like that.

She swallows hard and takes it off him. “Fucking hell I love you,” she says.

“Aye so you’re always saying, mostly when I’m calling you mistress or I’ve got my head between your legs. So predictable.“

“Is that a complaint?”

“Just an observation.”

“Good, because I can change my mind and you’ll be the one on your knees wearing the collar and that isn’t the plan, is it?”

“No, darling.” He replies, voice shaking ever so slightly. As far as threats go it really isn’t a very good one and he’s certain she knows that.

“Anyway, you going to give me a hand or what?”

“Sorry, keep forgetting you need help dressing yourself.” He’s behind her though, brushing her hair away from her neck and kissing it lightly.

“You’re getting distracted,” she says, trying to sound annoyed but not quite managing it. This is the problem with Malcolm he’s really difficult to be annoyed with, particularly when he’s this close and they’re alone together.

“Yeah, right, sorry,” he says, though he doesn’t sound it in the slightest. He straightens up though, undoing the collar and slipping it round her neck. “How tight?”

“Well I’m not much in the mood for erotic asphyxiation, so y’know use your judgement. I trust you not to kill me.”

“You know you’re probably the only person that knows me that does, don’t you, darling?”

“Yeah well if you kill me who’d fuck all your stress away?” she pauses and reconsiders the question. “For free I mean, and wait in your flat until fuck know’s when?”

“I don’t deserve you,” he says, as he slips the end of the leather through the metal buckle, fastening it in place.

“No one does, Malc, but you’re stuck with me now.” She turns to face him, a slight smile on her face as she looks up at him to see his reaction. “So what now?”

“I don’t know, darling.” His fingers trace over the leather of the collar, brushing against her skin then hooking into the metal ring at the front. “I tend to assume this is more your area of expertise.”

“You’ve got completely the wrong idea about this. It’s just a necklace. It’s a fucking accessory like a pair of shoes. Would a pair of shoes have this much of an effect on you?”

“It’d depend on the shoes. Or boots in your case. You don’t wear shoes.”

“You noticed that.”

“I notice everything, Grey. But to answer your question I think some probably would, aye. But I won‘t tell you which. I know you. You‘ll use it against me.”

“Me?”

“Oh yeah, you’re the perfect picture of fucking innocence, butter wouldn’t melt, aye?”

“Okay so me showing up in patent leather heels’ll do things to you, tell me something I don’t know, but this is different.”

“Not really, love.”

“This isn’t a sexual thing.”

“Not to you maybe, though I’m not sure I buy that incidentally. Okay so you didn’t _mean_ to bring it, this isn’t some _hint_ that you’re feeling submissive, that you want me in charge. Or the other way round for that matter. But I know you, Grey. You can’t tell me you’ve _never_ thought about it. Your mind’s full of filth, you’ve had fantasies involving this and you can’t tell me otherwise. You don’t have to tell me what they are. You just have to admit this isn’t all in my head.”

Sometimes she hates him. He’s too perceptive and if she didn’t know any better she’d be sure he could read her mind.

“Say it.” He growls low against her ear, his arm around her.

“I can’t do this with you looking at me.” She says, removing herself reluctantly from his embrace and heads toward the bed, laying on top of the sheets.

“Grey?” The bed dips as he climbs on after her, laying behind her but not touching her. “You don’t have to say. I’m sorry. Lets just forget this whole thing, right? This is supposed to be a break. Lets just carry on getting ready then we‘ll go out for dinner, in public, just like I promised. Anything you want, darling.” Anything but this sudden feeling like the bottom’s fallen out of his stomach because he never knows when to stop.

She reaches behind herself for his hand, shuffling backwards into his embrace. “I could never quite decide,” she starts, twining her fingers with his. “Which way I wanted it to go. Sometimes it’d be me and sometimes it’d be you.”

“Wearing the collar?”

“And the lead.” Her voice is too quiet, almost as if she’s ashamed of the admission but he holds her a little closer, moves so she can feel his breath on her neck.

“Oh aye?”

“It’s never gonna happen. You’re Malcolm fucking Tucker and I’m a secret. It’s all just something to think about when you’re at work and I’m in my single bed in a house I share with four other people.”

“What’s not gonna happen, darling?” He’s holding her closer than ever, and despite how guilty he feels about not being able to be seen with her and having to keep everything about the two of them private he’s hard and just wants to know what she thinks about when they’re not together.

“I have this… _thing_ , it’s not even really a fantasy because it doesn’t involve us fucking but…we’re together. We’re at Torture Garden and you’re wearing some fucking latex _uniform_ , and you’re all…you know _you_. All strong and no nonsense and in charge and so sexy I can’t keep my hands off you.”

“I thought this wasn’t about fucking.”

“Yeah well it’s always sort of about fucking. Jesus why would I think about it when I’m alone in bed if it wasn’t at least partly sexual?”

“My amazing charm and wit?”

“Yeah. _Right_.”

“So back to your little story.”

“You can get away with anything at Torture Garden, you know? No one gives a fuck, and no one judges you. So it’s all okay. It’s a free space to explore your sexuality.”

“You don’t have to justify yourself, darling. Not here, not with me. You can do anything you want with me, you know that, don’t you?”

It shouldn’t be this difficult, not with him, not with all the things they’ve been through and done together, but she still can’t quite accept her submissive side. It’s not something she’s used to and she’s much happier, much more comfortable when she’s pressing him up against hard surfaces, or holding him down on the bed. She doesn’t feel vulnerable then. She doesn’t feel slightly confused.

“So I’m in a uniform,” he says. “And what about you? What are you wearing? What are you _doing_?”

“Something similar, something…complimentary.”

“So people know we’re together, yeah?”

“Yeah. Not that they wouldn’t know anyway, because I’m wearing the collar, and the leash and I’m next to you, by your side, but you’re holding the leash. Because-because I’m _yours_ , to do what you want with. To tell me where to go, to show me off.”

“Oh darling, Oh _Grey_.“ He purrs the words and presses himself against her back. It’s a nice image and he’d _love_ to show her off because she’s beautiful and smart and passionate and there was mention of latex, and thoughts of her in a literally skin tight latex dress willing to do exactly what he wants and while he adores being at her mercy he really does like the sound of that. “They have masks, don’t they? I mean…it’s not like anyone has to know who I am.”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t make out you’re going to take me out in public, not somewhere like that. I know what the papers’d do if they found out. It’s not worth the risk. _Nothing’s_ worth the risk. You’re more important than that.”

“You don’t think I could keep myself out of the papers if I needed to? Anyway I doubt there’d be hacks there and if there are well I’d have as much on them on they’d have on me, wouldn’t I?”

“You know it’s not that easy.”

“You don’t think I could talk you round, darling? Get you all eager to please?” He slips his hand down over her stomach coming to a rest between her legs.

“Malcolm.”

“It’s okay, darling. You know the deal. You can trust me. I’m just saying the offer’s there. And if you’re not in the mood you know I don’t mind being on the end of your leash.”

“Maybe we should just keep it like this,” she says. She wouldn’t put him in that position and the fact he’s offering is only proof that he isn’t allowed to make decisions when he’s got a hard-on, just like she shouldn’t be allowed to make decisions when he’s got his fingers inside her boxers.

“Are you about to tell me you ‘accidentally’ packed a leash as well?”

“No, but back in London…”

“After a hard day at work, bollocking those fuckwits that are somehow members of an actual respected political party.”

“You wanna be my dog, sweetheart?”

“More than the fucking Stooges, darling.”


End file.
